’ ‘Nonsense, it’ll give Pottiswick something genuine to complain about,’ said Gerald cheerfully, moving to the edge of the trees. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. Your maid has twenty minutes to pack your dressing case for one night, and you have the same time to change into a travelling dress.
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